


Come full circle

by thefatesallow (comewhatmay)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Meeting, Burt POV, Fluff, M/M, kid!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:39:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comewhatmay/pseuds/thefatesallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You don’t meet the love of your life at eight. It just doesn’t happen. That’s the kind of bullshit fairytales and Hallmark feed you. But then again, since when have Kurt and Blaine ever followed any assumption Burt has of the world?"</p><p>Kid!Klaine fic: Kurt and Blaine meet at eight, and a series of vignettes of their life from age eight to nineteen, told from Burt's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come full circle

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy! :)

**_ Eight _ **

Burt is late.

Something came up in the garage at the last minute, and he couldn’t just up and leave, even though he should’ve been picking Kurt up from school thirty minutes ago.

Picking your kid up from school – one of those many small responsibilities you never really thought about until your wife died, leaving you to tend to an eight year old son alone. Missing her is still a raw wound in his heart, a wound that nearly incapacitated him in the beginning. But after seven months, he’s learning to live despite it. He’s learning to cope.

He parks near the entrance to the elementary school, glancing at his watch. Nearly forty-five minutes late. Kurt is probably very annoyed. And his kid can throw a hissy fit better than anyone. Burt sighs.

He jogs towards the doors, making plans to take Kurt out for ice cream; apologies and placations already on his lips, when he spots them.

Kurt is sitting on the steps leading into the school.

And he’s not alone.

Burt slows, taking in the picture, coming to halt a few feet away.

Kurt is sitting cross-legged on the stairs, talking animatedly to another kid sitting opposite him, who is nodding enthusiastically. A second later, both their heads bend over a piece of paper between them, crayons busy at work.

Burt clears his throat.

“Hey, buddy?”

Kurt’s head shoots up. “Dad! You’re late!”

“Yeah I know, sorry bud,” Burt apologises, taking a step forward. Not that Kurt seems very put out by that. “Who’s your friend?”

The little kid sitting opposite Kurt jumps up, brushing off his pants meticulously. He seems to be around the same age as Kurt, all large hazel eyes and dark hair slicked back with a heck of a lot of product. He’s wearing a neat little shirt (uncrinkled even after a whole day at school, just like Kurt’s) and a bright red bowtie that has teddy bears on it.

The kid hops down the stairs and comes to a halt in front of Burt, extending a hand formally. He barely even comes up to Burt’s belt buckle.

“I’m Blaine Anderson,” he says, the mature earnestness almost comical coming in his little boy voice. His hand is still held out to Burt. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Hummel.”

Burt smiles.

Blaine Anderson. A heavy name for someone so tiny. Heavy manners for someone so tiny too.

He crouches down in front of Blaine so they are eye-to-eye, takes the offered hand that is entirely too tiny and delicate in his own working man’s palm and shakes it.

“Nice to meet you Blaine Anderson,” he grins. “And you can call me Burt, kid.”

*

Kurt kicks his feet along to the music from the radio the whole drive back, looking at the drawing clutched in his hand and humming happily.

Burt has a hard time concentrating on the road because he can’t stop turning to look at the smile on his kid’s face.

Kurt hasn’t smiled like that since his mother died.

“So how come Blaine’s a new kid?” Burt asks, turning into the street towards the ice cream shop. “It’s the middle of the year.”

“His Mommy got a transfer here,” Kurt says, not looking away from the drawing sheet. “And his Daddy’s old bank was _downsizing_ ,” Kurt pronounces that word carefully, “Blaine says he got a new job here too.”

“I see,” Burt says, pulling up in front of the ice cream store. “And his brother’s definitely gonna pick him up? We coulda given him a ride.”

“His brother goes to the high school,” Kurt says, wiggling while Burt unlocks the seat belt. “Blaine says high school lets out later than elementary school and he always has to wait.”

Burt has a feeling he’s going to be hearing sentences starting with “Blaine says” for a while. He opens the passenger door and Kurt hops down, still clutching the paper.

“So what you got there, kiddo,” Burt gestures at the drawing. Kurt trots next to him, does that little hop-step he does when he’s happy. Burt’s heart squeezes.

“Blaine and I were planning suits,” Kurt says importantly. Burt gets him settled at one of the tables and goes to get a choco-vanilla sundae, Kurt’s favourite. When he returns, Kurt’s still staring at the drawing sheet with a smile on his face, feet kicking, throat humming. Burt drinks it in like a parched man on a desert.

“What’re you planning suits for?” Burt asks, just to keep Kurt talking. Anything to hear his happy little chatter. Anything to see his little boy back.

Kurt gets distracted by the ice cream for a few minutes before Burt’s question registers. He brandishes a flimsy red paper-ring on his left ring finger which Burt hadn’t noticed till then and giggles happily.

“Blaine and I are getting married!”

Burt freezes.

It is not like he didn’t know. Kurt has always been different, always been special. Burt’s suspected this since Kurt’s third birthday, when all his kid wanted was a pair of sensible heels. But it hits him now that he’ll have to do this on his own now, without Kurt’s mother guiding him with her gentle light. He’s alone.

It frightens him.

Something about his thoughts must have shown on his face, because the happiness is gone from Kurt’s now. He’s frowning slightly at Burt, his little mouth slightly downturned, as though worried Burt is upset with him.

“That’s wrong isn’t it?” Kurt asks, somehow both achingly young and grave beyond his years. “Lucie Pepper from Crafts class said it was wrong when Blaine gave me the ring. She said two boys couldn’t get married, it’s only correct for a girl and boy to get married.”

Burt’s throat unclenches.

“No,” he says emphatically, because this is important. It’s important that he makes Kurt understand _this_ if nothing else. “There’s _nothing_ wrong with that, you hear me, Kurt? There is nothing wrong with a boy wanting to marry a boy, so long as that’s what they both want, and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

Kurt is still looking at him with a slightly dubious frown.

“No one pushes the Hummels around,” Burt reminds him, leaning forward to place a hand of Kurt’s bony little shoulder. “And certainly not some Lucie Pepper from Crafts class.” He tickes Kurt slightly in the neck hoping to wipe that frown off his face – it works. Kurt giggles and squeals before returning to his ice cream.

Burt doesn’t know what he’ll do when Kurt’s older and a tickle and some ice cream won’t be enough to get him happy again when the world tries to put him down and tells him he’s wrong for being who he is.

But for now, his kid is here and happy and Burt lets it soothe him. He’ll figure it out in the end; Kurt’s mother always believed in him to. He won’t let her down.

He won’t let _Kurt_ down.

“So why exactly do you wanna marry this kid?” Burt asks, humouring Kurt.

“Because that’s what you do when you meet your Prince Charming,” Kurt explains, bouncing in his seat a little. “We had a Disney marathon last week Daddy! Don’t you remember? All of the princesses get married when they meet their Prince Charming.” His eyebrows scrunch. “So long as there are no evil witches, that is.”

Burt’s fighting to keep a straight face. Kurt would be highly affronted if Burt laughed at him during this all-important announcement.

“But I asked Blaine,” Kurt says, expression smoothing out and clearing, like sunshine after clouds. “He says he doesn’t know any evil witches or huntsmen, and I’ve never seen a dragon, so I think we’re okay!”

“And why do you think Blaine’s your prince?” Burt chuckles.

“You _met_ Blaine, Dad,” Kurt sniffs as though that explains everything.

Burt raises his eyebrows.

Kurt gives him a _look_ , like he’s being particularly dense. It’s so like his mother’s, so _exactly_ like her, that Burt feels a rush of bittersweet affection.

“Because Blaine’s _pretty_ ,” Kurt explains slowly as though Burt is the eight year old here. “He looks like Prince Eric. And he sang to me after school. And made me a ring!”

Kurt brandishes the ring enthusiastically in Burt’s face. The flimsy thing seems to be in imminent danger of collapsing in on itself.

“Alright, you convinced me,” Burt manages, suppressing another laugh. “Blaine’s your Prince Charming. You can marry Blaine. Just give it a few years, will ya? I don’t think they officiate weddings for two eight year olds.”

“Blaine’s only seven,” Kurt corrects gravely.

Burt can’t help it anymore. He bursts out laughing.

***

 

**_ Fourteen _ **

“Hey kids, you in?” Burt calls out as he hangs his coat in the stand and toes off his work boots.

“In here,” Kurt’s voice floats up from his basement bedroom followed by muffled talking.

Burt pads down on socked feet to Kurt’s room and blinks at the explosion of beauty products and colourful clothes that greet him.

“What’s all this?” he asks warily.

Kurt is frowning and bustling around with a comb, hairspray and scissors wielded like war weapons. Blaine is sitting in front of him on a stool with a distinctly apprehensive expression.

“Blaine _finally_ got his braces out today,” Kurt states enigmatically, and then proceeds to ignore Burt. He picks up a random magazine off the floor, muttering to himself, before turning back to Blaine, scissors snapping threateningly.

Burt raises his eyebrows at Blaine.

“Kurt decided that since my braces are _finally_ out, it’s time I had a makeover,” Blaine explains, his fourteen year old’s voice cracking all over the place. “Apparently he’s been waiting for this for three years, though I’ve only actually worn braces for _two_ ,” he finishes with an eyeroll and a shake of his head.

“Stop shaking your head, this is hard and I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“We could just go to a proper hairdresser at the mall for this?” Blaine asks in a hopeful voice. “You know, like every other teenager who wants a haircut?”

“All the hairdressers in this cow town are utterly incompetent,” Kurt says dismissively. “They totally botched up mine when I went a couple months ago. Nope. I know exactly how I want you to look and I only trust myself to do it.”

The scissors give another threatening snip, Blaine huffs a resigned sigh and Burt tries very hard not to laugh.

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” he says, chuckling to himself and backing out of the room.

He hears some muffled squabbling, raised voices, a lot of thumps and what sounds like a fistfight. Normal sounds he’s gotten used to coming from Kurt’s bedroom over the years.

When Blaine finally emerges after three hours, even Burt’s impressed.

He can’t really pin-point exactly what Kurt’s done different. Blaine’s hair is still slicked down with a lot of product. He’s still wearing blindingly-colourful pants co-ordinated with printed bowties. He’s still tiny with a childish roundness to his face and the awkward joints of a growing teenager.

But what looked vaguely disjointed and dorky on the goofy kid with the braces, now looks handsome and smart and… _preppy_. Somehow, for the first time, Burt can truly appreciate what a handsome devil the kid would grow up to look like. He hoots, turning to grin at Kurt and freezes.

Yeah, Burt’s doesn’t know fashion; he has no idea what’s changed on Blaine. But if there’s one thing _does_ he know, it’s his kid.

And he can sure as hell spot _exactly_ what’s changed in the look Kurt is giving the boy standing next to him.

Well.

At least he always knew this was coming, sooner or later. He’s had years to get used to the idea. He’ll be fine.

***

**__ **

**_ Sixteen _ **

Burt is not fine.

He doesn’t know why exactly his past self believed having two hormonal boys he cares a lot about embarking on a relationship together could be _fine_ , but obviously his past self was a moron.

He also doesn’t know why his past self thought any of his planning would be worth shit, because since when have Kurt and Blaine _ever_ followed any expectation he has of the world?

The fact that they _are_ in itself defies expectation. You don’t meet the love of your life at eight. It just doesn’t happen. That’s the kind of bullshit fairytales and Hallmark feed you. But then, there they are.

The two idiots pussyfoot around the issue so long, Burt doesn’t really think about what to do when they finally _do_ get their act together. He is too busy worrying about Kurt and Blaine losing this amazing, incomprehensible bondbetween themover teenaged stupidity.

But then, after a sexuality crisis inspired by a drunken kiss with some girl, a flash-dance at The Gap that ended in Blaine getting banned from there for life and debilitating crushes on two moronic _straight_ football jocks on Kurt’s side, they finally get their shit together halfway through March their junior year.

Burt comes home one bright spring afternoon to find Kurt floating on air, grinning the most beautiful happy smile, breathlessly telling him that he and Blaine are _together_ now. Burt has been expecting this so long, he just feels a calm contentment with the world. Like all the myriad pieces of a complex puzzle have slotted themselves where they belong and the picture makes sense again.

But then it truly hits him that Kurt and Blaine are two hormonal teenage boys who are _dating_.

Where an empty house before meant a loud Sound of Music sing-along is now an opportunity for everything else _except_ singing. (A week after their first kiss, Burt walks in on them making out on the couch and nearly has an aneurysm.)

One evening, Kurt and Blaine go out to watch a movie and then have dinner at Breadstix, like they normally do. It feels regular, unremarkable – just a normal Thursday night.

But unlike normally, they don’t both come in for a quick drink and chat at the kitchen table when they return. Burt frowns, peeking at Blaine’s car idling outside the house but nobody getting out, before settling back into the couch with a shrug.

It takes fifteen whole minutes before Burt realizes what exactly must be going on in there. He curses, scrambling off the couch and bangs the front door open, hollering for them to get their butts inside.

When they traipse in, they both look distinctly rumpled. It doesn’t help Burt’s blood pressure when he spots Kurt’s kiss-bruised lips and the hickey on Blaine’s throat.

Another evening, Blaine stays over for one of their regular sleepover nights and that is so completely _ordinary_ , Burt is halfway up to his bedroom before he realizes he just _left_ _his son and his son’s boyfriend alone for a night in a bedroom_.

When he thunders downstairs and arrives at Kurt’s room, huffing and puffing, he finds them both entwined on Kurt’s bed, already well on their way to being shirtless. That doesn’t help his blood pressure either.

The thing is.

He always had a mental guideline on how to deal with Kurt’s first boyfriend, based on how he himself was treated by his girlfriends’ dads. He always knew _exactly_ how he’d go about dealing with a boyfriend.

Burt would throw the boyfriend out if he found him making out with his son on the couch. He would be belligerent and overprotective if hickeys were spotted at any time. He would set rules about staying in the house and never allow them into Kurt’s bedroom alone. He would clean a shotgun pointedly in the boy’s presence, intimidate the kid with glares and out-of-the-blue questions and make him quake at the knees. (And he would have a hell of a lot of fun doing all of it.)

He knows what he’d do with Kurt’s first boyfriend. He just doesn’t know what to do with the fact that the first boyfriend is _Blaine_.

Burt loves Blaine. He _knows_ Blaine. He knows the kid has the kindest gentlest soul and that he is strong and moral and brave. He knows how _good_ Blaine is for Kurt. He knows that if there is one person who cares as much about Kurt as Burt himself, it’s Blaine.

But more than that, Burt’s _used_ to Blaine. The sight of Blaine sitting sleep-rumpled on their breakfast table doesn’t feel new or strange. Having Blaine tucked around Kurt watching the Buckeyes game is so normal. Coming home to find Blaine stretched on the couch with Kurt asleep on top of him just tugs a gentle warmth in Burt’s heart. Blaine has been part of their Friday night dinners for so long, only _not_ having him there would be weird. Somewhere along the way, Blaine became a part of their little family and having him around doesn’t feel different. It just feels like _home_.

Burt is woefully unprepared for _this_.

So, after a while, Burt gives up trying. He stops trying to enforce normal-boyfriend boundaries around this nebulous, impossible thing that is Kurt-and-Blaine and just lets them be.

But then again, he is a good dad. And he _is_ the father of Kurt Hummel. Beneath all that straight-forwardness, he has his own a devious streak too and if he is being a responsible parent _while_ exercising that deviousness, then well, it’s all good.

So the next week, he goes to the nearest clinic and gets five different educational pamphlets on gay sex. He reads through all of them that afternoon and _finally_ understands what the hell went down in the tent in that cowboy movie he watched with Kurt a few years ago.

That night he sits Kurt and Blaine down before they go in for another of their sleepovers and hands them the pamphlets. He tells them to read through it together and to be completely sure about each others’ boundaries before doing anything together. He tells them to always be safe and to always treat each other well. He tells them they _matter_.

He also embarrasses the hell out of them both (and takes a deep satisfaction at their violently red faces) because hey, they did the same to _him_ making out all over the place all the fucking time. Payback and karma and all that stuff.

(And when he’s leaving, if he can hear Kurt’s furious embarrassed whisper exclaiming he is never having sex _ever_ and Blaine’s vehement agreement – well, that’s good with Burt too.)

***

 

**_ Nineteen _ **

Even after seven months, the house still feels too empty sometimes without the two of them traipsing up and down all the time.

Senior year was a tense, chaotic mess with tensions running high and insecurities coming out to the fore, but Kurt and Blaine get through it (with Burt occasionally interfering to offer his two cents and/or tell them get their heads out of their asses).

And now, they are in New York, going to college together, living together by themselves and Burt is so proud of the two of them and the men they’ve grown up to be.

He still misses them like crazy. Kurt is his _son_ and he’s had Blaine around for over ten years now. The house doesn’t feel like home without the two of them.

But he met a nice nurse last week when one of his workers got injured at the garage and he had to take him to the hospital, and she makes him feel alive again in a way he hasn’t felt for the longest time.

Burt thinks he is beginning to adjust to this new normal.

He gets regular phone calls and skype chats when the boys can manage it, their happy faces and voices filling his heart with warmth. This is what every parent hopes their kid would find in life, after all – a loving partner who would cherish them, a warm happy home. Burt feels lucky he gets to witness it come true so early.

Sometimes they call him separately to talk about each other, to have a listening ear while they unload their thoughts and try to figure out their emotions.

Some of those calls are hilarious. (“He bought a couch infested with _bedbugs_ , dad. As if my superior selections at the vintage, high-end flea markets aren’t cutting it for him. And we spent the night disinfecting every single piece of furniture we own. He got disinfectant on my _face,_ dad!) (“Kurt may think his design decisions are amazing and inspired, but honestly, a lot of them are _not_. And he won’t let me set up my own workspace!”)

Some of those calls make him tear up with joy. (“Sometimes I can’t believe this is my life, dad. I’m in New York, going to one of the best Performing Arts schools, interning at Vogue, living in my own crappy student apartment and getting to share all that with _Blaine_. I’m just… really happy, dad.)

Sometimes he wishes he weren’t on the other end of a phone and could actually reach out and hug the kid while reassuring him. (“I know Kurt is amazing, I’ve _always_ known Kurt is amazing and brilliant and… and _everything_. But suddenly, everyone _else_ is seeing it too and sometimes… Sometimes I just don’t feel _adequate_ , Burt. Sometimes I feel like Kurt is blazing ahead like he the star he is and I’m barely keeping up, like I’m not _good_ enough to keep up”).

One phone call is completely unexpected and shakes him to the core. (“I think Blaine and I may be breaking up, dad. We had this… this huge fight and we both said some awful things and he… he _left_ , to stay with one of his friends and he hasn’t called in three days and I feel like I can’t _breathe_.”)

It takes an entire month to sort out that mess. The whole time, Burt resists the urge to hop on a plane and go fix it himself.

But his kids are adults now, he can’t fix their problems for them anymore; they should figure it out on their own. And Burt believes in them. He believes that when two people love each other like those two do, things _will_ work out in the end.

But it doesn’t make it any less agonizing, to watch the two kids he cares about most suffer this way.

They never tell him what the fight was about and they never tell him what happened to get them together again. But one evening they show up on his skype screen, together again, hands intertwined and sharing tentative glances of giddy relief and joy.

The leaden ball of worry in Burt’s gut dissolves and things go back to being how it should.

And then there’s the one phone call that is _completely_ expected. Indeed, Burt thinks a part of him has known this is where they’d go all along, ever since that afternoon long ago where he saw his kid light up again, all due to one little boy. (“I’m going to ask Kurt to marry me. Kurt is my soulmate. I know we’ve had our ups-and-downs this year and we’ve both been through a lot, but I think they just made us stronger and… I think… I think we are ready. And I hope we have your blessing, Burt.”)

*

Burt knows the gig is up the second Kurt comes downstairs, dressed in a powder-blue suit and looking like a prince. The heart-shaped diamond brooch pinned to Kurt’s lapel is all the confirmation Burt needs.

“Argh, how did I slip up?” Burt groans, grumbling as he gets the car keys and slips into his shoes.

“Dad, please,” Kurt scoffs, following him down to the car shed. “I’ve known he was going to ask me to marry him for five days now, and suspected something was going on for _weeks_. You know Blaine’s hopeless at keeping secrets. And we _live_ together.”

“Yeah,” Burt laughs, settling into the driver seat and snapping on the belt. “Remember your sixteenth birthday. Blaine blurted out about your car a whole month early, the idiot.”

They both share a fond smile across the gear shaft over the idiot that is as much family to them as each other, before Burt turns back to the front, revving up the engine and steering them out of the garage.

When he glances back, Kurt’s amused-fond smile has morphed into a soft and content one, lit up from the inside as he stares unseeingly out the window. Burt swallows, feeling his throat clench up.

“So exactly how much do you know?” Burt asks gruffly. “Blaine’s been getting it together for over a month now, I’d like to think at least some of it will be a surprise to you, for his sake.”

“Next to nothing,” Kurt replies, grinning happily, feet wiggling a little in excitement. Burt flashes back to the little eight year old he was, humming along to songs on the radio, legs kicking along to the beat while he smiled at a drawing clutched in his little hands. It still feels like yesterday. Where have the years gone? “I’m actually surprised how much Blaine managed to keep from me for so long. I only know he’s going to ask and even that I found by accident. I don’t know anything else about it.”

“Well thank god for that,” Burt says, driving them through the streets of Lima. “The kid will be crushed if the _whole_ surprise is spoiled.”

Kurt giggles and nods and they lapse into amiable silence for a minute.

“So how are _you_ feeling about all this?” Burt asks, breaking the quiet.

Kurt frowns, staring unseeing at the houses flashing past them, gathering his thoughts.

“At first I panicked, a little,” he says softly, staring out the window. “We are both so _young_ and you hear all these stories about high school sweethearts marrying too soon and ending in a bitter separation and that scared me.”

He pauses, a small smile tugging up at the corner of his mouth. When turns back to Burt, he’s glowing.

“But it’s Blaine, dad,” Kurt says, words emphatic and sure. “It’s _Blaine_. I know him better than I know myself, sometimes. He knows _me_ better than I know myself sometimes too. I can’t even remember a time where he wasn’t by my side, and I don’t want to _imagine_ him ever not being there. We are just… we are _us_. He makes me feel so safe… and connected… and _loved_. There’s no one else who can ever make me feel like that. And I know that. I don’t have to think about saying yes… it’s been a yes for _years_ now. And it always will be.”

Kurt’s voice breaks and he turns away, looking out the window again and Burt clears his throat past the lump that’s settled there.

“He said you are his _soulmate_ when he called to tell me about all this,” he tells Kurt, a grin in his voice. “The love of his life, apparently.”

Kurt huffs out a laugh, grinning like his heart is bursting. “He really is the biggest romantic sap in the world,” Kurt says fondly. “You should hear some of the more ridiculous cheesy things he’s said to me over the years.”

“You love him,” Burt teases, taking a left and smiling at the road.

“I do,” he hears Kurt say softly beside him, voice full of wonder, even now. “God, I really _really_ do.”

They lapse into silence again, each lost in his thoughts about the day to come. It is one of those days that they will remember for the rest of their lives, after all. One of those days that will change their lives forever. Burt feels in over his head a little.

Burt’s phone buzzes on the dashboard and Kurt blinks at it, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m guessing it’s better if I don’t read that,” he says playfully, swiping the text open for Burt and turning the screen to him, exaggeratedly closing his eyes.

Burt rolls his eyes and takes a peek at the phone.

_ Sam:  _

_we r running a lil late setting up the band and the rose petals havent been delivered yet and blaines freaking the fuck out so keep kurt with you for half hr maybe?? we shld b ready in 30mins i think and ill manage to calm blaine down by then. cheers!_

Burt snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes again, because even he doesn’t know the full plans and _rose petals,_ seriously Anderson?

He turns down a side-lane, rumbling with quiet laughter as he heads towards Kurt’s favourite ice cream shop in Lima.

“Your boy’s freaking out and their plans are running a little late so Sam asked me to keep you occupied for a half hour,” Burt informs Kurt, pulling up in the parking lot of the ice cream place.

Kurt snorts, muttering something about “not a little kid that needs to be babysat” as he gets out of the car. They head inside, walking side-by-side and when did Kurt get _taller_ than Burt?

Burt heads to the counter to get a choco-vanilla sundae for Kurt. As he turns back and spots Kurt sitting at their usual table, he is hit by a sudden wave of déjà vu again, flashing back to a little eight year old at the same table, humming happily over a drawing in front of him. He blinks, and the vision fades, back to Kurt in his beautiful blue tux, hair coiffed to perfection and about to get engaged to the man he loves.

It’s all come full circle, hasn’t it?

He heads to the table, heart heavy with too many emotions and places the ice cream in front of Kurt before settling in opposite him.

He reaches into his pocket, carefully fishing out a square package wrapped in gold foil and tied with a red bow. "I was going to give it to you today evening, after everything. But since you know what's gonna happen anyway..."

He stares at the package for a second, a smile tugging at his mouth, before placing it on the table and sliding it across to Kurt.

Kurt swallows a spoonful of his ice cream, looking at Burt questioningly, eyes flickering between Burt and the foil-wrapped package. Burt nods at him, encouraging him to open it.

Kurt’s fingers undo the wrapping gently, open the cardboard box within. He lifts out a rectangular crayon drawing, encased neatly inside an expensive portrait frame and protected by glass. He stares, eyes blinking rapidly, before his fingers find another little object in the cardboard box and he lifts out a small, see-through glass case, holding a tiny paper-mache ring pinned to the centre, frayed around the edges and the bright water colours slightly faded.

Kurt stares up at Burt, mouth parted slightly, speechless.

“I don’t know how much you remember about the day you met Blaine,” Burt says, smiling softly at his kid, sitting full-grown and tall opposite him now and Burt is so _proud_ of everything he’s grown up to be. “I was running late picking you up, and when I get there I see you with this little midget of a kid and I could tell instantly you two were going to be thick as thieves.”

Kurt is biting his lip around the smile flickering across his face, eyes tearing up.

“I brought you this ice cream shop after and the whole ride here you were smiling so _bright_ ,” Burt continues, voice catching. “And it was the first time I saw you that happy since your mom died. Even then, Blaine made you happy like no one else could.”

Kurt lifts up a shaking hand, dabs at his eyes.

“And we were sitting right here, just like this and you told me you were going to marry Blaine,” Burt chortles out. “And I asked you why and you said ‘Because he’s my Prince Charming, _dad_.’”

Kurt huffs out a breathless laugh, hugging the framed drawing to his chest.

“I just want you to know how proud I am of you,” Burt says, reaching out to put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. It’s strong and broad now, no longer that tiny fragile thing it used to be under his palm. But he is still Burt’s little kid, he’ll always be his little kid no matter how old Kurt grows. “I want you to know proud I am of _both_ of you. And how _happy_ I am that you both found each other.”

Kurt lifts a hand to rest over Burt’s, curls his delicate fingers around Burt’s stubby ones, squeezing, smile shaky but incandescent.

“Thank you, dad,” Kurt says, sniffing, and Burt hands him a handkerchief, feeling his own eyes tear up a little.

There’s silence again as Kurt pulls himself back together and Burt pushes back the tears. He can shed them later when his son’s saying yes to the man he loves. He remembers another little detail of the day that started it all and grins.

“At least Blaine’s not seven this time around,” Burt quips.

“Hmm?”

“When he’s putting a ring on ya,” Burt grins. “At least he’s not seven and singing at you to ask it this time around.”

“Dad, if you seriously think there won’t be singing involved you don’t know Blaine at all,” Kurt deadpans, staring him in the eyes seriously.

They look at each other a beat longer and burst out laughing.

*

Later, he stands in front of the elementary school and stares when trumpets blare and rose petals swirl. Four different show choirs serenade his kid and even the back of Kurt’s head looks overwhelmed and stunned.

He listens to Blaine say “We met right here…” and thinks, yeah, life throws the happiest things your way when you least expect it sometimes doesn’t it?

He watches Kurt say “Yeah, _yeah_ ,” breathless and high, before pouncing on Blaine, getting lost in their world of two, surrounded by a whole cheering crowd of people who wish them well.

He sees a memory of the little kids sitting cross-legged opposite each other, that first afternoon that was the beginning of everything and no, Burt couldn’t have worked out a better way for things to go if he could’ve done it himself.

Later, Kurt and Blaine untangle from each other and the crowd surges around them. Kurt gets snapped up by a horde of his best friends and his face in that moment could outshine the sun.

Blaine walks up to Burt, happiness a tangible cloud around him and Burt can’t _not_ hug him. He pulls Blaine in and thumps his back, before drawing apart and holding Blaine by the shoulders, at arm's length. Burt can still see traces of the little boy who stood no taller than his belt-buckle then, though Blaine’s only shorter by about a head now.

Blaine still looks rather dazed and drunk on happiness. Burt lets him go.

“Anderson,” Burt says, greeting Blaine in that pseudo-macho way that is one of their inside jokes and nodding his head. A thought hits him suddenly and he feels his face split wide in a grin. “Not for long though, I suppose. Soon, it’ll be _Anderson-Hummel_.”

Blaine freezes for a second, as though it’s not sunk in yet, as though he can’t believe this is _real_ yet, looking thoroughly overwhelmed by it.

“I better re-introduce myself,” Burt jokes, taking Blaine’s hand in his and shaking it vigorously. The hand that grips back is somehow strong and gentle at the same time. Just like the man it belongs to. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. soon-to-be Anderson-Hummel.”

Blaine puffs out a laugh, grinning giddily in reply before putting on a mock-earnest voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Burt.”

Burt lets go of Blaine’s hand, smiling down at him with all the happiness in his heart. “And you can call me Dad now, kid.”

 


End file.
